


Home (or Fushimi: Hidden Weapons Expert)

by MamaKusanagi



Series: Sweet Blessed Scepter 4 Interaction [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cauterization, Humor, M/M, May Become a Series, Post Reconciliation, Strain, and Life Block™, anyway, damn I can't tag, doumyouji drives like a motherfucker, everything w me is angst but look I tried my hand at humor okay, excessive use of the word 'fucking', hidden weapons expert!Fushimi, honestly really not that angsty lol, i just want more scepter 4 interaction even if I have to write all my headcanons my gd self, idk - Freeform, or a bunch of oneshots, scepter 4 babes, sweet blessed scepter 4 interaction, they're very close w one another okay, trying to work through writer's block, well like half the squad but whatever, yata is 'misaki' during fushimi 3rd person omniscient, yata is 'yata' during yata 3rd person omniscient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 02:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaKusanagi/pseuds/MamaKusanagi
Summary: "'Misaki.'The name escaped him without thought, without precipice, and his head had snapped up. Scepter 4 was right in front of him with a fully stocked medical lab, and a pretty damn good doctor because Munakata hired nothing but the best, but a yearning filled Saruhiko that he hadn't felt in ages, and he wanted to go home without putting too much thought into how he finally had one, and he distantly heard his name being called by blurring figures racing towards him as he put all his energy into teleporting, 'Home...'"Or"Domyouji waggles his eyebrows.'If you're going to be gross, please take it outside,' Saruhiko groans, and reaches instinctively for a knife that's not there.He glances over at Yata, who realizes what he's looking for with an incredulous shake of his head. 'Who the fuck keeps 79 knives on them?!''Someone who just lost 21 knives,' Saruhiko says dryly, and Kamo's hand isn't enough to stifle Domyouji's cackles."





	Home (or Fushimi: Hidden Weapons Expert)

**Author's Note:**

> I remember reading something like this a year or two back, and remembering that it was the greatest thing I'd fucking read. It was more lighthearted than this, because of course it was I'm the angst queen, but like the author was such a fucking genius it was amazing. Please enjoy panicked birbs in a panicked flock flocking panickingly in a panic. Yes.
> 
> (And to those who are following my other story "How to Get It All" (previously titled "The Symbol of Flames") I promise an update is coming. I'm like over halfway through with the current chapter, like I write one fucking chapter drunk and suddenly I've gotta switch up my entire outline, but honestly it's for the greater good, I'm at my best when I'm drunk.)

When Saruhiko had agreed to move back in with him, Yata had been ecstatic.

After all the hard work and progress they had both put into their reconciliation, after months of talking (conversations with Saruhiko fucking suck, in all actuality, because not a lot is said and when it is, it's cryptic and sour and insulting, but he'd _finally_ gotten through to him at last and it may have had to involve saki he'd smuggled out of Kusanagi's bar), and building back up from the fragile foundations of their crumbled trust, he had finally worked up the courage to ask Saruhiko to move out of the Scepter 4 barracks and join him in his moderately sized apartment.

Like old times.

Saruhiko hadn't agreed at first, of course. He always loved being difficult. He'd 'tch'd and spat about how the old times were dead, but even the familiar taste of bitter insult held a tang of hesitance that Yata hadn't been able to ignore. So he'd prodded, and pried, and annoyed, and all he had to do to get Saruhiko to agree with him was wear him down eventually with his persistence, right?

Eventually came the day where, upon visiting Scepter 4 on his lunch break like he'd done every day that week, he went to approach Saruhiko's desk and was met with no Saruhiko, which was not like every day that week, and his phone buzzed in his pocket exactly when he was about to ask a passing employee where the third-in-command was.

_'This is getting creepy. Fine.'_

And just like that, they were roommates again.

Fast forward a couple of months more, and Yata's surprised at how smoothly things are going. He works his two side jobs, racking in enough money to pay his share of the rent and grocery shop and, for once, have a bit of spending money on the side now that he has financial support. Fushimi works his usual 9-whatever the hell time he drags himself home (and okay, it's not even 9, it's usually earlier, and he's called out at odd hours to handle strain situations because their powers haven't faded yet, and that Shiro guy theorizes that the slate was probably going to eventually heal itself, so they were all essentially buying time until the thing fucking exploded one of them again, and shouldn't they really be focusing more on that?!), and they fight over what Yata cooked for dinner because Saruhiko is and always will be a picky ass, and they collapse into bed together like old times.

And maybe it's weird, that they're grown up now and sharing a bed, and Saruhiko's never been the type of guy to cuddle up to anyone or even be in the same room as another person ever if he could help it, but they sort of have an unspoken agreement that Yata's room is both of theirs; the second bedroom holds most of Saruhiko's things, sure, but it doesn't house the man himself come nightfall, and hasn't since the first week he'd moved in. Something about being in the same apartment as the other and not sleeping close to one another sets them both on edge, and even though they were used to bunk beds, Saruhiko had climbed straight into his bed one night and curled up so close to the edge that he was in danger of falling off. Yata had had to drag his ass to the middle of the bed, getting sleep-slapped for his troubles, and left him on top of the blankets because fuck him, he was just trying to help.

Despite it all, though, neither of them verbally addresses it, and there isn't much awkwardness since they go to bed at different times. Yata is halfway afraid to say anything about it, lest Saruhiko get defensive and decide not to do it anymore.

So the nightly ritual continued, and life went on.

And one night, it may have led to them curled in each other's arms like they hadn't in years, waking to one another's body heat pleasantly matching the warm atmosphere of the morning sun shining through the thin curtains (that Saruhiko absolutely _despises_ but puts up with because it ultimately ends up being the last straw between him staying in bed all morning sleeping through the last of his alarms or finally dragging his ass out of bed to get ready for work) and illuminating the red walls in a glow. And from then on, things just-

Click.

This particular night, though, Saruhiko is supposed to be on a mission, and Yata isn't expecting him home until long after he goes to bed. Every time there's a scheduled mission, Saruhiko always stays way over to handle the reports that follow, because he's secretly a perfectionist and doesn't appreciate the effort that most of his fellow clansmen put into their paperwork. Realistically, the mission should have ended not too late in the evening, from what he'd told Yata about it the night before, but he's such a damn workaholic that Yata wouldn't be surprised if he slunk in a little after two in the morning.

So imagine his surprise when the door lurches open as he's putting the leftovers, including Saruhiko's wrapped plate, in the fridge and in stumbles his very pale roommate.

"Hey, what are you doing home so early?" he asks nonchalantly, having only glanced behind him to confirm the sound. "Thought you'd be freaking out over everyone's paperwork right now."

Silence greets him, and he turns around with a disgruntled frown. "Saruhiko?"

"Get the first aid kit," he hears, and sees no Saruhiko to match the strained voice, and he starts immediately panicking.

"What?!" He rushes from the kitchen to the living room and spots boots hanging off the arm of the couch, and doesn't bother going around it- he's been skateboarding long enough that he just places a hand on the back of the couch, shifts his weight just right, and vaults to the other side, thankful that their kotatsu is on the fritz again and is moved to the corner for Saruhiko to finish working on when he has the time. The sight of his pale boyfriend lying on the couch, still complete in work uniform, definitely rings off warning bells in his head. Saruhiko never relaxes without taking the damn thing off first, or at least his shoes. A quick glance proves that Saruhiko has only discarded Subaru, the sword lying near the door, probably so he could flop down onto the couch without the metal digging into his hip. "Where are you hurt?!"

Saruhiko clicks his tongue, and his eyes trail down to where his hands are gripping his right outer thigh, and Yata's eyes widen when he doesn't only see the red of blood staining his uniform pants. "What the fuck, Saruhiko?!"

"Cauterized it," he hisses, and Yata's face gets even more pale at just the fucking _thought_ of Homra flames against Saruhiko's skin yet again. How he manages to sound only a bit discomforted stuns the gang member. "Hit femoral artery."

"Alright, you don't get a first aid kit, you get a fucking ambulance," Yata says with every amount of stress he currently feels bleeding into his voice, and he's already grabbing Saruhiko's PDA (his own in his room charging) to do just that, when Saruhiko's bloody hand smacks his own and the PDA goes flying. "Hey!"

"Just needs burn cream," Saruhiko gasps, though a glare is firmly set on his face, and his hand goes immediately back to his thigh. Yata almost gags- the edges where he'd ripped at his pants are burnt, and there isn't an inch of skin visible that isn't red and inflamed, or soaked in blood. "And a couple of stitches."

"I'm surprised you're not dead yet," Yata snaps, his voice shaking more than his hands, and he finally opens up the phone feature before he pauses and ignores Saruhiko's predictable protests. An ambulance would take way too long to get there _and_ get them to the hospital, Yata knows that. Traffic is terrible around where they live, and he just has this gut feeling...

His finger hovers over the call button, a creeping awareness of his own mortality when his boyfriend catches on to what he's doing, but a look at Fushimi's pain-filled eyes squeezing shut and red glowing near his leg has his thumb slamming onto the screen. "Please don't kill me for this," Yata mutters.

"Just get me the goddamn first aid kit, dumbass! I'll do it myself if you're too squeamish!"

"Fushimi-san? Where did you run off to? Everyone's wondering where you are," comes from the receiver, and Yata's eyebrows shoot up. So Fushimi had gotten injured around his squad and hadn't reported it or gone to medical? This is serious! Once Saruhiko gets to the hospital, Yata is going to let him have it.

"This is actually Yata," he says sheepishly, and tries to hurry on in case he gets interrupted, "and we need a ride to the hospital, when can you be at our apartment?"

There's a long pause on the other end, definitely not long enough to believably ignore Saruhiko's eloquent inquiry of, "Who the fuck did you call, Misaki?" and definitely too long for their current situation.

"Is Fushimi-san okay?" is the first question he's asked, then, "Wait, you want _me_ to drive you and Fushimi-san to the hospital?"

"Are you gonna do it or not?!" Yata snaps. "Because it kinda needs to be done, like, ten minutes ago."

"Right! I'm on it! Be there in five minutes!" And then Yata is hung up on, and it takes a second for his brain to catch up with the fact that it takes fifteen minutes from Scepter 4 to reach their apartment, and that's without traffic, and he really should have called an ambulance, shouldn't he?

But it's too late to back out of his decision, and he'd really rather paramedics not be bursting in here with Saruhiko's red aura flaring around his wound occasionally, burning more of his pants away and what the hell was up with that?

Before he could ask, he's interrupted by his boyfriend's sharp voice demanding, "Who the fucking fuck was on the fucking phone, Misaki?!"

And right, he remembers, Saruhiko's going to kill him.

"Please don't get angry."

"And why am I always angry when someone asks me that?" Even in incredible pain, Saruhiko still manages to be a smartass. If it wasn't so annoying, Yata would take it as a good sign. "What did you do?"

"Well, you're bleeding!" Yata snarls, already defensive. "And there's no way an ambulance will get here and get you to a hospital on time, and you'll scare the stupid paramedics with your fucking aura anyway- which, what the hell is up with that? Are you losing control agai-?"

"I swear to god, if you don't answer me right fucking now, I will shove a knife up your dickhole," Saruhiko swears colorfully, and yep, he's definitely not dying at least. If he were, he'd be saying a lot of cryptic things that Yata would never be able to decipher to hide his fragile fucking feelings, he wouldn't be so up front about things, or having an actual conversation with him. Not to say he didn't need to get to the hospital ASAP, because that needs to be looked at by a professional, and disinfected so he didn't get an infection and get sick, and just because he's in pain and Yata's fucking worried about him. So yeah, Saruhiko's going to the hospital, no matter how much he bitches.

He can't stall any longer, because Saruhiko needs to calm down and honestly could use a distraction because no matter how much of a masochist he is, there's a fine line between sexual pain and going into shock. And Saruhiko's currently looking like he's experiencing pain of the latter kind. "I may have called someone from your squad."

Saruhiko is silent, and if it weren't for his eyes still barely opened in a very narrow glare, Yata would think he'd slipped into unconsciousness. "Please tell me it's Akiyama."

"Um..." Yata doesn't answer, instead going over to the blue clansman and crouching down. "I'm going to pick you up, okay? We need to get you downstairs, so we can meet him there."

"I can walk!" Saruhiko snaps testily, and lets Yata begrudgingly help him up with his left arm wrapped around Yata's shoulders, his wrist held firmly in Yata's left hand. The redhead's right arm is around his slim waist, easily supporting his weight for him as they hobble to the door. Another flare of Homra flame brushes against his inflamed skin, prompting a sharp whine from the taller male, and his glowing blue right hand flies to the area to try and cool it down. It surprisingly works.

"Saruhiko?" Yata asks, closing the door. He thought his shifting had caused the pained noise to slip from Saruhiko's lips.

"I'm fine!" he gasps, sweat gathering on his pale forehead. "Now tell me who was on the goddamn phone!"

"Sheesh, I will! I will! Just calm down!" Yata shouts, slamming the downward facing arrow button at the elevator once they reach it. He only hesitates until the elevator reaches them, and talks as he guides them in and shuts the doors. "It was Domyouji."

Saruhiko is silent for a long time, until they reach the bottom floor. And their elevator is the slowest fucking elevator to ever exist, so that is a very bold statement. When he answers, his voice is deathly calm, and Yata sighs at how dramatic his boyfriend can be. "Take me back."

"He's the quickest driver I know!" Yata defends his decision, and he's right. Domyouji is an incredibly fast driver, one of the fastest on the force, and doesn't hesitate or falter in these types of situations, and they could benefit from someone who can dodge traffic.

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted me to live?" Saruhiko huffs. Or maybe he's panting. Yes, he is definitely panting, and Yata winces as they stumble their way through the doors of their building.

"You're being dramatic again," Yata mumbles, more focused on the traffic-filled streets, the sound of horns honking and brakes squeaking making him bite his lip anxiously. "He's not that bad..."

"You only know from stories," Saruhiko breathes, slumping heavily against the redhead once they finally stop. "And when have I ever exaggerated?"

Yata's about to reply, but it's sucked right out of his thought process when a slick blue Impala whips around the block, tires screeching and horns honking like out of a fucking action movie. Was Saruhiko right? Why did he always have to be right? He keeps gaping until the Impala squeezes through traffic enough to partially pull up to the curb between two parked cars and the passenger window rolls down, Akiyama's wide eye gazing at them. The other is under a thick layer of ruffled bangs. "Get in."

"Misaki, I swear to god, if you put me in that vehicle-!" Saruhiko's voice is rising, but he is either too busy internally panicking or too exhausted (and that was a scary thought because if Saruhiko is anything, he's a _fucking fighter_ ) to physically protest.

Yata doesn't wait, just yanks him forward and gives Domyouji's door the same treatment, and then he's scrambling in and dragging Saruhiko in behind him, and the door slams shut before he realizes that he's in the middle of the backseat and his back is against someone because he's got Saruhiko half in his lap and can't really move because fuck if he's unwrapping his arms from around his boyfriend because he's started shaking slightly. "Hi," he squeaks to Kamo, who's at his back, and he only squeaks because Domyouji is peeling out at that exact second and he's too busy keeping Saruhiko upright that he himself lurches, and Kamo's hands steady him by his shoulders.

"Andy!" the older man yells, and Yata gives another sigh. He's, of course, not happy about this situation at all, but he's glad that he finally has someone else with him to help deal with this. "Try to keep us steady now, Fushimi-san's injured!"

"Yeah, duh!" the other redhead in the driver's seat snickers, glancing back at them through the rearview mirror while turning a sharp 180 and slamming on the gas towards the nearest hospital. Akiyama's sputtering and the honking of pissed off drivers fills the air before Domyouji replies. "That's why I'm hurrying!"

"Try not to kill us or anyone else while you do, please," Akiyama comments quietly from the front seat, probably wondering why he had accompanied him in the first place.

"Why is half the squad here?" Saruhiko mumbles, and right, he has an armful of shivering, steadily bleeding boyfriend.

"Because the other half is out looking for you," Kamo answers, his voice bordering vaguely patronizing if it weren't for the worry and slight tinge of fear. Saruhiko is still their sharp-tongued superior, and Kamo is probably more aware of his mortality than Yata is. "Captain wasn't happy that you just disappeared in the middle of an active mission."

Yata's eyes widen and he looks down at Saruhiko's pinched expression, but he still manages to glare up at him through the pain. "Saruhiko! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"So loud," is all he gets in return, his head falling back down to his chest as he puts more weight against Yata. His hand is still putting pressure on his wound, and is still glowing blue, and Yata should be worrying but the pained draw of Saruhiko's eyebrows is lessening the longer he holds his blue aura there, and he wishes he knew more about their powers so he could help or know if Saruhiko was going to permanently fuck up his leg doing that.

As if reading his mind, Kamo peaks around him to get a look at Saruhiko around that time, and exclaims, "Fushimi-san! Should you be doing that?!"

"I know what I'm doing!" Saruhiko bites out, and just from the pursing of his lips, Yata knows that's a bold-faced lie. They all shake as Domyouji flies around a corner, Yata doing his best to stabilize his boyfriend but only succeeds in drawing out another hiss, and it prompts Akiyama to reprimand Domyouji once again for his Fast and Furious reputation.

"Does anyone else want to drive?!" Domyouji huffs indignantly.

"Yes!" everyone shouts unanimously, including Yata, who has never driven in his entire life, and Saruhiko, who is currently bleeding sluggishly from what Yata can only assume was a serious gash or stabbing-turned-burn wound (which, what had happened, anyway?), and wouldn't be able to drive if his life depended on it.

"The bleeding has stopped, so you don't need to be going so fast!" Kamo pleads, and Yata's a little relieved that the male's convinced that Saruhiko's not going to die in Domyouji's car. Well, from his leg wound, anyway. Whether they all crash and die in a fiery explosion remains to be seen, but Domyouji seems to be doing his best to make that happens. He's pretty sure they've clipped a car or two, and there's definitely scratches along the sides from scraping passing or parked vehicles. Yata would be a little flattered and pleased that the other redhead cared enough about his superior to go through all this if he weren't too busy clinging to his boyfriend for dear life as they briefly cross into the other lane to blow through a traffic light. Their light is red as they blast through, narrowly avoiding skidding cars legally making their way through the city.

"Goddamn it, Domyouji!" Saruhiko screams, his voice so hoarse and loud it makes pretty much everyone jump, and his glowing hand finally drops from his leg and he stops shaking. "Stop this car right now and take me home!"

"He can't be serious!" Akiyama yelps, gripping his seatbelt as he twists to look back at them. His eyes widen before they promptly narrow, and all traces of panic are gone from his face. "Yata-san, check his pulse."

Yata's heart sinks at his tone and he looks back down at Saruhiko immediately. The male is almost limp in his arms, face pale and mouth slightly parted for wet gasps to escape. His fingers scramble to press against his slender neck, and then travel up to cup his face once he found it. "Weak," he croaks out. "Saru?"

"Misaki?" he answers, bloodied hand grabbing Yata's. "Take me home. I want to go home..."

"Domyouji, go faster," he hears Akiyama whisper from the front seat. "He's in shock, we've got to get him to the hospital now."

And Yata doesn't know much about medical shit, but he knows enough about that from tv that it's like he's being doused in cold water when he hears it, the fear and adrenaline spreading rapidly through his body. He grips Saruhiko a little tighter, pulls his uniformed coat closer to his cold, clammy body, and holds one hand in his while the other reaches down to his leg. The wound isn't bleeding anymore, and he doesn't know if he should still put pressure on it or not, so he just hesitates, hovering over the injured area with uncertainty.

"'m not in shock," Saruhiko huffs suddenly, surprising most of the occupants with his clarity despite the slight slur at the beginning from pain. "Tell him to slow down, and take me fucking home."

"You're so stubborn," Yata growls, squeezing Saruhiko's hand with his own and raising the other to stroke his damp hair. He has to brace them once again for another wild arc thanks to Domyouji's driving, but then he returns right back to his position.

Just as Saruhiko tilts his head back, preparing to look Yata in the eyes as he fucking roasts him, sirens erupt behind them and there's a collective curse from every occupant in the vehicle.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Yata can't help but ask, and every single person glares at Domyouji.

"What?" the redheaded driver asks innocently.

When he doesn't pull over, Kamo leans up and smacks his head. "Emergency or not, you have to pull over!"

"But Fushimi-san," he whines, eyes darting to their superior, who glares up at his with a ferocity that can only be scrounged up with severe pain.

"Stop. This. Car."

Fushimi's demand isn't to be ignored when he uses that tone of voice, and even though his blood pressure is low and he's very cold, he just knows he's going to be okay- and he doesn't need a damn hospital for it. These morons were going to make him worse with their meddling. All he needs is some burn cream, some pain killers, and a good night's sleep before work tomorrow. He doesn't need a hospital trip.

And Misaki thought _he_ was dramatic. He's got nothing on this shit show.

As Domyouji pulls over, all occupants are tense. The lights are too bright in Domyouji's mirror for him to really track the officer's movements, but he has his window rolled down ready to tell the officer that this is an _emergency_ and he _really_ needs to go to the hospital and the cop could escort him or fuck off, they just need to _go_. Akiyama's more than ready to pull rank to get out of this situation, and Yata wouldn't be opposed to kicking some civie cop's ass to relieve the copious amounts of stress he is currently under. And while they're all tensing, ready to do what's necessary to get Saruhiko to the fucking hospital already- and god, this was just getting more and more dramatic- the officer bends down, and they're all completely shocked to see Benzai leaning in with a smile.

"Hi, Himori." He looks at Domyouji and his smile sharpens to a grin. "Don't fucking speed with my boyfriend in the car."

"Yuujirou," Akiyama breathes, then seems to snap out of whatever is making him space out and jerks closer to Benzai, which makes Domyouji have to lean back at the sudden invasion in his personal space. "Thank god! Give us an escort to the hospital, Fushimi-san's been injured!"

Benzai looks in the backseat and his eyes widen. "Fushimi-san!"

"Benzai," Saruhiko groans, and Yata's arms clench around his thin body. "Get in the fucking car and stop Domyouji from killing me..."

"Yes, sir!" Benzai salutes, and rushes back to his car. In minutes, they're back in motion, Benzai's car zooming past theirs with sirens blazing.

"Great," the injured mutters once the vehicle lapses into silence. "This is why I didn't want to go, Misaki. Fucking big deal out of everything..."

"I think a burn like that is pretty serious!" Yata snarls back at him. Saruhiko looks ready to retaliate, but is silenced by Yata's next question. "Just what the hell happened, anyway?"

If they didn't already have everyone's attention, they do now, and Saruhiko doesn't want to answer just because of that. But the car lurches again, and his leg is jostled, and he's gasping from the pain and Yata's looking at him all intensely caring and worried like that, and he opens his mouth before he thinks about it. "Harness... The strain messed with a harness, and a knife..."

Yata's eyes widen and his jaw drops. He can't help it; Saruhiko's harness? Saruhiko hadn't injured himself with his knives since he'd first gotten them, when he was first learning the mechanics of throwing blades in middle school. And not once had he had a harness malfunctioned on him. It's just too hard to believe.. Saruhiko is a hidden weapons _expert_. This shit just doesn't happen.

As if reading his thoughts, Saruhiko shifts to glare up at him. "She causes misfortune."

Yata barks a laugh at that, brushing Saruhiko's bangs out of his flushed-from-embarrassment face. "Sure she hasn't been following you around your entire life?"

Saruhiko's paling lips quirk at that, and he's leaning his head back onto Yata's shoulder with a sigh. "Hilarious.."

Yata's left arm snaps out to steady them as Domyouji suddenly breaks harshly, Kamo's reflexes just slightly slower than Yata's and causing him to hit his head on the back of Domyouji's seat with a grunt. Akiyama's already out of the door before Yata even realizes that they're at the hospital, and he's holding his hand out for Saruhiko to take. He accepts the help he would, under normal circumstances, brush off, and he's on his feet with a low whine. Yata scrambles out after them, sees the back of a familiar brunet head- what's Hidaka doing here?- rushing through the doors ahead of them, and doesn't brace Saruhiko like Akiyama does: he forgoes wrapping his arm around Saruhiko's waist again, instead ducking slightly to get an arm under his knees with the other at his back, and easily picks him up into his arms. He squeaks- goes red from the noise despite his pallor appearance- and grips Yata's white sweater, the material shaded red by the slick blood on Saruhiko's flesh.

"That fucking hurt!" he snaps, but his voice is weak, and Yata knows he's mostly just embarrassed by the action. He never liked displaying weakness, which definitely fueled his insistence that he not make a trip to the ER, and his coworkers were witnessing their superior being carried like a damsel, and Yata knows it grinds on Fushimi's nerves.

But it's the quickest way in the hospital, so Yata says, "Suck it up," as he carries him inside, and Hidaka already has a nurse with a wheelchair waiting on them, and Yata's finally breathing easy for the first time since Saruhiko had shown up.

* * *

 

 

When Saruhiko wakes up, it's to the smell of antiseptic and the harsh glare of florescent lighting against crisp white walls, a ringing in his ears that blessedly blocks out the annoying repetitiveness of the beeping heart monitor, and the dual mix of uncomfortableness that comes from the scratchy hospital blankets and the tightness of his skin on his leg- which, he recognizes acutely, is from an injury currently healing and experiencing incredible pain killers. His eyes are heavy, and everything is blurry, and he can't tell if it's because of the drugs or because he doesn't have his glasses on- he can't feel his face enough to be able to tell. He's about to close his eyes back, call it a night, refuse to deal with this, because it's never good when he wakes up in the hospital- and he knows he's not in the medical wing at S4 HQ because there would be blue trim to the walls and ceiling, and he has the vague feeling that he had fled work...

Right, when the strain had struck him, nothing had happened, so he figured it was a fluke. Sometime's you got hit and nothing happened, it either backfired or just didn't work. But then, as they were getting back to HQ and ready to book the female strain, he'd felt it. A shift in the harness strapped to his right leg, and he froze when he felt his knives slip. He'd designed and made his harnesses himself, so he knew nothing was wrong with his straps. It had to be the strain's ability, just activating a little later rather than sooner. He'd fallen behind a little as his group carried on, not wanting to walk with loose weaponry on his person because that was just asking for something to happen, when something happened that he definitely didn't ask for.

A knife had slipped straight down to where his still-scarring injury from the Jungle incident was, and pierced his flesh at just the right angle.

He'd cried out in pain, leg automatically collapsing at the weight and pain being applied to it, and when it did, he heard a wet sound and blinding hot pain flared through every sense. The pain increased tenfold as he hit the ground, and he bit his lip to stifle the sound. A look around alerted him that he was now alone in the courtyard, probably not noticed because it wasn't unusual for him to slip away straight out of a mission to get a jumpstart on paperwork- not that he'd need it- and he didn't know how to feel about that. Deciding not to dwell on it, he'd ripped his pant leg open to assess the damage, and his breath hitched at what he'd seen.

Blood was already gushing heavily from the wound, and the knife hadn't even left it yet. It was at such an angle and so deep in there, deeper than the other one had been back in the Jungle hideout, that he was certain it has pierced his femoral artery. Gritting his teeth, he steeled himself for what he had to do to stop the bleeding, and grasped the handle of the blade with a shaking hand. His other already glowed red, ready to act, and he'd yanked the knife out of his leg. Blood spurted from his body, making his vision blur at the sheer sight of his own mortality leaving him, but he was quick to bring his flaming hand down to his leg and press it to his wound.

Saruhiko had shoved the handle of the knife into his mouth, teeth clutching the metal as his jaws locked in a muffled scream. The sound of his flesh sizzling and boiling, the smell, the blinding pain of flames licking his skin was something he was used to, but it had never quite hurt this badly. Maybe it was a result of their powers growing weaker, or maybe it was because Saruhiko himself was weak- either way, tears sprang to his eyes without his permission, and he gasped, the motion sending his knife clattering to the ground. His hand stopped glowing, because he didn't think he could go on without passing out, but the blood was still leaking, despite having been dramatically quelled.

"Misaki..."

The name escaped him without thought, without precipice, and his head had snapped up. Scepter 4 was right in front of him with a fully stocked medical lab, and a pretty damn good doctor because Munakata hired nothing but the best, but a yearning filled Saruhiko that he hadn't felt in _ages_ , and he wanted to go _home_ without putting too much thought into how he finally _had_ one, and he distantly heard his name being called by blurring figures racing towards him as he put all his energy into teleporting, _**'Home...'**_

The rest comes easily after that: Misaki's panicked squawking, his moronic thinking of calling Domyouji of all people to drive them to the hospital, how pretty much his entire squad ended up coming along for the ride, how Misaki had clung to him in the car, and had looked so worried and concerned for him..

"Che, about time you woke up."

Saruhiko drags his eyes back open, unaware that he'd closed them, and shifts them to look to his side. Misaki's hair is sticking to his forehead in the way it always does after a particularly restless night of sleep, and the way his arms are crossed on the bed supports the theory that he'd just woken up. His eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with exhaustion, but there's a flicker of something soft in them that makes Saruhiko's normally cold heart melt straight out of his chest. He's pretty sure there's physical evidence, as shown on the heart monitor as it _literally_ skips a beat, but all he can do is stare at Yata, response too far away as he's sucked into his boyfriend's golden eyes.

Suddenly, someone's clearing their throat, and Saruhiko is forced to break eye contact to investigate who would dare to interrupt his intimate (ick) moment (ick). There's suddenly too many eyes looking at him at once, to his complete fucking surprise. Usually when he wakes up, it's to Misaki (or the occasional unpleasant sight of Munakata with him in the S4 infirmary, should he ever wake up there). There's never a crowd. There's never more than three, max: Misaki, Munakata, and/or the doctor. There is no doctor, Misaki is at his bedside, and five others crowd the moderately sized room on one side. Akiyama and Benzai sitting on the other, unoccupied bed in the room (thank fuck, the absolute _worst_ thing about being in the hospital is when he's trapped in a room with another person) is the first thing he sees. Hidaka's frantic murmuring slowly bleeds through the ringing in his ears- why had Misaki's voice been so clear?- and his eyes drift towards the noise. The brunet is pacing in the doorway, words flowing nervously but smoothly about Saruhiko's condition, and he'd fight him over that right fucking now if he had any energy at all. Probably on the phone with Awashima or Munakata, anyway, so there's really no stopping it. Movement out of the corner of his eye brings him to the last pair in the room, and he's sneering before he can school his expression properly. Domyouji's perched on the counter just beyond the other bed, getting his hands smacked methodically by a deadpan Kamo as they stray to open cabinets or reach for the gloves in his boredom. The older male is also casually standing between the redhead's spread legs, and all parties are unfazed by the events unfolding. Saruhiko's definitely on some heavy painkillers.

"What the fuck?" he mutters loudly, fully incapable of censoring himself. He's exhausted, and he just wants to be alone with his Misaki, and he did not waste all his energy teleporting home to him just to end up in a situation like this. But his life is a lost cause at this point. Who knows what all is affected by that misfortune strain, and on that note, who knows when it will even end? Saruhiko sure doesn't.

"I couldn't get them to leave," Misaki yawns to his left, and he's instantly gripping the redhead's hand tighter. "Pretty Boy insisted on calling fucking everyone and updating them on what all happened and what's wrong, and I'm pretty sure your king's on his way-" that prompts a long-suffering moan of pure _defeat_ from Saruhiko, and Misaki starts rubbing his knuckles like a good boyfriend- "Also couldn't stop him, and the Homra Reject said that he'd done this much, and he wasn't leaving until you were alright. Mom and Dad were the same."

Saruhiko's lips couldn't help but quirk in a genuine smile at Yata's nicknames for his squad, at the same time that Domyouji asks, "Wait, am I Homra Reject? Because I have an objection to that-"

Kamo groans and slaps a hand over Domyouji's mouth, and Fushimi instantly lets go of 90% of the anger he holds towards the man. "No. Just because I'm a father does not make us automatically 'Mom and Dad'."

Domyouji waggles his eyebrows.

"If you're going to be gross, please take it outside," Saruhiko groans, and reaches instinctively for a knife that's not there.

He glances over at Yata, who realizes what he's looking for with an incredulous shake of his head. "Who the fuck keeps 79 knives on them?!"

"Someone who just lost 21 knives," Saruhiko says dryly, and Kamo's hand isn't enough to stifle Domyouji's cackles.

Hidaka hangs up the phone around this time, and Saruhiko instantly looks to him for an update, even though he's the one that everyone's being updated about. Nonetheless, Hidaka has something for him, and the brunet opens his mouth to speak. "Awashima-san says you're in trouble."

Even Benzai and Akiyama crack a smile at his joke, and Domyouji's back to giggling into Kamo's hand, who's really earning some brownie points with Saruhiko. Hidaka, not so much. "I beg your pardon?"

Even his sharp tone, dulled by the pain medication, isn't enough to deter Hidaka from giving his superior a half smile and continuing, "She says you should have stayed there and waited for us, 'cause we were coming to get you; but then you just vanished. She said you shouldn't have left when we could have helped you."

Saruhiko's face burns, and he turns his head away from his clansmen. He connects eyes with Yata again, this time holding his gaze steadily, and knows that he's wondering why Saruhiko didn't stay with people who were trained for situations like that, because his brow is creasing and his lips are tilted at that confused angle. He doesn't want to speak it, to say it out loud, even if over half his squad weren't here to witness it, because it's just not something Saruhiko talks about, even with Misaki, because once it's out there, there's no going back.

So when Misaki's face eases into understanding, and there's the tiniest hint of wetness highlighting his eyes (the fucking softie), he swiftly stands from his seat and slips into the most commanding stance he has- despite his short stature. As a vanguard of Homra, it's pretty good, and has everyone's attention immediately. "Alright, everyone out."

"What?" Domyouji whines, finally jerking free of Kamo's hand. Saruhiko sighs, and thinks with solemn resignation that all good things must come to an end.

"I said you could stay until he woke up, and now that you know he's fine, he needs to rest," Misaki elaborates firmly, ignoring childish and worried protests from Domyouji and Hidaka, respectively.

"You'll keep us updated on his condition?" Akiyama inquires, always the diplomat. Benzai stands after him, giving a nod to Saruhiko.

Misaki clicks his tongue, and they couldn't help but cringe. Their superior is affecting Homra's vanguard too much. "If I don't, your king sure will when he gets here."

That seems to satisfy them, and they all start to file out of the room. Benzai leaves first, with Akiyama trailing behind after giving Fushimi a salute. Kamo and Domyouji wave with ranging bits of enthusiasm, and Fushimi waves goodbye to all of them half-heartedly. Hidaka's the last one, hesitating just in the doorway, and levels Saruhiko with a heavy gaze. "You'll call if you need anything?"

"What could you have that I would possibly need?" Saruhiko huffs, but a nudge from Misaki has him frowning and adding, "But... If, for some reason I do... whatever, I'll text you or something," he shrugs, glancing over to see if Misaki's satisfied with his answer.

The redhead is rolling his eyes at Saruhiko's actions, but doesn't say anything. Hidaka smiles and bids them goodbye, with a promise to send in the doctor, and Saruhiko finally relaxes as the room dissolves into silence after the door clicks shut, and Misaki's thumb is back to rubbing circles across his knuckles, and even brings his hand up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to it (seriously, what a _fucking_ softie), and life isn't perfect but it's pretty decent in that moment.

"So...... Your own harness, huh?"

"Okay, you fucking get out, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! It was my first time writing present tense, so if it switches to past tense suddenly when it's not talking about events that actually happened in the past, well, old habits die hard (well, unless you count that one HQ fic that had past, present, AND future tense all together but that was an experiment and I'm never doing that to myself ever again).


End file.
